


Summer of Spike Drabbles

by lycomingst



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-09
Updated: 2010-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-06 01:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lycomingst/pseuds/lycomingst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of drabbles I wrote for the "Summer of Spike" LJ community. The drabbles relate to the episodes that Spike was in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer of Spike Drabbles

**School Hard**

He read once that the way to make a name for yourself in any field of endeavor was to go after the biggest son of a bitch in it. Get his attention and you've got everybody else's. The Anointed One it was then.

He and Dru meant to stick around. Best to establish himself as someone not to be fucked with. Slayer troubles? Spike's the vamp for the job.

Just need to get the lay of the land. Find the Slayer, this chosen bird. Dispatch her right quick. Done it before, easy.

Then concentrate on Dru. She's the important one.

**Halloween**

I never told Drusilla about it. How close the Slayer came to staking me. Flat on my back like a bleeding turtle. Slayer must've got distracted or something. I had to slink away. Shaming. Halloween's nothing but bad luck.

Don't usually go out All Hallow's Eve. Though it was a treat, walking around all vamped out, nobody turning a hair.

Thought the Slayer was mincemeat; her being under a helpless spell. Not really sporting, but I'm not one for convention. Dead is dead.

I spun a tale for Dru. She can tell when I'm lying, but likes a good story.

**Lie to Me**

There was something wrong with the boy. Spike could smell it when he was close. Beneath the richness of blood, a medicinal tang. Still, kid promised to trap the Slayer. She'd be gone; easy meals for everybody; boy lives forever. Win-win as they say.

Course it's a cock-up. That Buffy bitch threatens to make Drusilla a pile of ashes. The warm bodies are gone. Only the boy remains.

Nevertheless, Spike keeps his promise. To show the minions. So when he promises he'll tear their tongues out if they muck-up a job he gives them, it's likely to happen. Keeps'em focused.

**What's My Line, Pt. I**

They're studying the volumes, but tedious translation is not Spike's strong suit. He throws the book down in a fury.

"How can I concentrate on this? Slayer nipping at my heels all the time! Her and her bloody sidekick, Soul Boy. She's like the…the Lone Ranger, with her Tonto. She probably sends him to track me, pick up my scent. Annoying git. No, he's not Tonto, he's Dale Evans. No, better still, he's Trigger."

Dalton says mildly, "Excuse me, I think you're mixing up your cowboys."

Spike aims a level stare at him. "Did I ask you?"

"No."

"Too right,"

**What's My Line? Pt 2**

If I gave it any thought I'd call it a delicious irony. His showing up just when we need her sire's blood to fix Drusilla.

Dru thought it very hurtful of him sloping off in China without even a fare-thee-well.

I figured it was because I got me a Slayer, and he never did. Imagined I'd run him off. Puffed me up.

Much later I learned about the soul. His leaving had nothing to do with me. No real surprise. I wasn't that important.

Maybe I'll loom larger in his scheme of things when I'm the last face he sees.

**Surprise**

Spike looked down at his shoes. The useless fashion accessory on the end of his legs. Dru put them on him this morning. Well, she started to, then she got distracted and Spike had to shout for a minion, to get him to finish the job.

Not that there was any need for them, he sourly thought. Wouldn't be doing any stepping out. No tripping the light fantastic at the party. A few whirls of the chair in time to the music; nothing that involved his great, ruddy useless FEET.

"Here you" he grabbed someone close, "these boots need polishing."

**Innocence**

Like Bogie once said, "Of all the empty warehouses, in all the world, he walks into mine."

He'll soon find I'm not the boy vampire he left behind. Course, being in a wheelchair puts me at a disadvantage, image-wise. Getting better every day, though. Soon put it behind me. Just in case he has plans to go all paterfamilias on us.

Still hasn't bagged himself a Slayer. At least, not in the meaningful way.  
Likes to toy with the prey, I remember now. No just getting the job done.  
He likes artistry.

God, I forgot how bloody irritating he is.

**Bewitched**

He watches them when they came back whispering and laughing from their feeding sessions. He makes little attempt to disguise his dislike and distrust of Angelus, but she doesn't seem to notice, doesn't seem to care.

He's never been so badly injured before. She's never had to take care of him, and he knows her attention is slipping. She's as easily bored as he is; only he can't do anything about it.

He rolls back and forth. Like pacing, only on wheels. When they come back, he follows them across the warehouse floor. So he can glare and be ignored.

**I Only Have Eyes for You**

I saw his face when he came in and I knew what happened.

"Slayer dead?" I asked. Innocent question.

"Shut up, Spike."

"I'll take that as a no, shall I?"

"There was a ghost. Magic mumbo-jumbo. That crap always fouls things up"

"Ahh, that explains it. The not-dead Slayer."

The two of them left then to feed. Not before he threw a few more of his wheelchair puns at me. Comical Angelus.

Me, I make walking jokes, mate. Look here: I have my feet firmly planted, taking a step in the right direction.

And, I'm going to kick your ass.

 

**Passion**

The Watcher came in swinging. Got to admire the balls of that approach. Don't know if he considered that there were two other vamps in the room. Even if he had taken care of Angelus, there was still Drusilla, who could have ripped his head off, and me. I guess I could have rolled my chair over his toes.

But Angelus didn't live as long as he has not being able to handle a slightly doughy librarian. Rupert was just lucky the Slayer was watching him for a change.

Angelus' cat-and-mousing cost us our home. Hope that's the only price.

**Becoming Pt 1**

When Spike latched on to what Angel was up to, he was disgusted. It was one thing to wind up a big blue booby and have him toddling about, but ending the world was over the line. It's not like Big Blue was invincible; he never made it out of Sunnydale.

(Shame about Dalton, he could be useful just now.)

Spike could walk out, but not without Drusilla. If he tried to take her by force, there'd be a knock-down-drag-out. He'd be lucky if he landed back in the wheelchair.

No, Angel had to be stopped. Time to think laterally.

**Becoming Pt 2**

Invited into a Slayer's home. Spike had to smile crossing the threshold. Gave him lots of ideas for the unexpected. But it was important to stay focused. On Angel and Dru.

He fancied the Slayer's mom more than a little. Spike liked a woman who knew what was what. And this one smelled delicately of hyacinth. Good manners, too. Spike half expected her to offer him cake and coffee.

He struck a deal with the Slayer, promised to be a good boy. He wanted nothing more than to kick the dust of Sunnydale off his shoes.

South America looked good.

**Lovers' Walk**

The man at the desk, Phil, waved some papers in the air. "We got some priority jobs"

The other man in the room, Mike, looked wary.

"Don't worry. No blood and guts. Just somebody knocked over the Sunnydale sign. Again. Left broken booze bottles. And there's a mess off Main Street. Maybe gangs fighting. Broken store window glass. Trash everywhere.

"Kids, huh?" but Mike sounded unconvinced. "Good, because I'm tired of hauling the remains of god-knows-what out to the landfill."

"You gotta admit, it's steady work. And, quoting the Mayor…"

"A tidy city is a happy city," they chorused together.

**In the Harsh Light of Day**

He was not happy about this part of it. He would have felt his heart, were it not a withered lump, sink as he entered Sunnydale.

Whoever last had it, the Gem of Amara, couldn't they have left it lying about in the deepest, most undiscoverable Pharaoh's tomb, not here, home of the West Coast Hellmouth?

But only this search had made him rise from his melancholy bed after Drusilla left. If he couldn't find it, he'd leave and no one would be the wiser.

If he got it, then invulnerable, he would bring Dru the Slayer's liver to eat.

**Wild at Heart**

This time Spike didn't care who knew he was back.

He headed first for Willie's. He needed to suss out what the Slayer was up to.

The drinkers were chatty. Slayer was off to university. Smart demons made that a no-go zone.

The drunker ones lowered their voices, said she's not all to worry about. There were ghosts on campus, body snatchers, lightening throwers.

Refilling his glass Willie said, "Something else's out there, besides her. Something bad."

Downing his whiskey Spike said, "I'm the Big Bad, mate. Like the song says, when they see me coming, they better step aside."

**The Initiative**

There'd been other times he'd woken up in odd places, but never as a lab rat. His head was throbbing. He slipped out of the soldier's clutches twice now. Might not be lucky again.

Something was wrong. No shit, genius! He needed to be someplace quiet, secure to think. Can't bite, can't fight. If the other demons get wind of it, he'd be dead. They'd dust him for sport.

He'd go off by himself to get it sorted. And not think about being hungry.

Live forever but never run out of irony. So much for thinking he was alone before.

**Pangs**

He's tied to a chair, watching the Slayer go all domestic. As if he couldn't snap these ropes...but what's the point? To go where?

Anyway, the holidays in California are bollocks. Parades on the East Coast were fun. The parade float workers would start way before dawn. Lots of hubbub, if a worker went missing, who was counting?

Dru liked the Mummers' Parade in Philly. All that glitter and shiny, gaudy silk. The buzz you got from the strutters' blood was as good as four fingers of single malt.

Was there any chance Slayer wouldn't burn the damn turkey black?

**Something Blue**

It felt right. Being engaged to the Slayer.

Her warm hand in his. Her weight in his lap. Passionate kisses. It was all good; he couldn't get enough. Yet, yet. You'd think something in his brain would have shouted out, Vampires don't get married, wanker. It just doesn't happen that they pledge their troth to the latest Slayer.

It was so real. The spats, making up. Him feeling protective. It was love in a funhouse mirror. And he didn't show up in mirrors.

Little Red fooling was fooling about with magic. And that's the thing about magic. There's always consequences.

**Hush**

I think my luck can't get any worse. Then it does. Kicked out of the Watcher's flat so he can snog with his girl. Who knew he could even pull a bird!

Shipped off to the Harris House of Joy. Pizza Boy ties me to a disgusting piece of crap he calls a chair. I mean, somebody actually designed it, right? Had to say, "Yes, I think we'll cover it with cheap plastic the color of orange juice vomit."

I get Harris waving his ass in my face.

When the chip is out, I hunt the Initiative. They all die.

**Doomed**

He had to slink behind Harris when they run into G.I. Joe. It galled him. But once they're outside and on the way home, his mood is almost giddy. He separates from the others, lagging back, disappearing into shadows. He has something to do. Urgently.

He's stolen money from Harris' wallet. The wages this guy gets are pathetic. Spike needs new clothes. A make-over. He half hopes he meets some demons on the way. They'd be sure to mock his touch-of-Hawaii shirt. And guess what? He can kill them.

It almost makes him sing.

Big Bad on the road back.

**A New Man**

He was measuring the crypts, thinking more about defense than comfort, and realized that this was the first time in his unlife that he'd be alone. Dru wouldn't come back this time, no Angelus and Darla. Even alive, there'd been Mother.

As if to distract him, Giles pops up. With horns and hooves. Growling and giving the world the finger. Maybe since he, Spike, wasn't much of a monster any more, Giles got sucked into some sort of natural vacuum, filling his empty space. Things keep changing.

Thoughts to turn around in his head during the long, solitary daylight hours.

**The I in Team**

He might as well live in the bleeding Alps. His life was going from high to low and back again like he had all day ticket on a ski-lift. Feared vampire, cuckold, chipped prisoner, escapee, fangless, living on the charity of the Slayer (low point!), and then back to something like normal. His own place and he had to admit that it was sweet to have the Watcher trying to smarm him into helping the Slayettes.

But his luck hadn't changed. Now he's face down while the Watcher does surgery with what feels like a spanner. It's the bloody Alps.

****

I'm surrounded by idiots. I'm here, large as life, showing what the commando boys and their Hive Queen are capable of and they still don't get it. Lot of hand waving and "oh my, what to do?" Left to me to point out that maybe the boyfriend is part of this getting-the-Slayer-killed plan.

Oh, there's an idea they never thought of. Simple logic, but no, they don't like it. The Slayer wants to believes his story because what? He's tall?

Still, his face when he saw _me_ made my day.

I'd say Slayer and her soldier are having trust issues.


End file.
